I have a star named Gremhog in the lovely galaxy. This blog will be dedicated to the stars in my life...the ones known and the ones yet to be discovered.

Saturday, January 08, 2011

Invictus

This morning Robert and I finally watched the movie, Invictus. Very good movie. I had recalled the final two lines of the poem but am not sure I ever really heard the poem itself, not its history. So for your reading pleasure:

At the age of 12, William Earnest Henley (1949-1903) fell victim to tuberculosis of the bone. A few years later, the disease progressed to his foot, and physicians announced that the only way to save his life was to amputate directly below the knee. It was amputated when he was 25. In 1875, he wrote the "Invictus" poem from a hospital bed. Despite his disability, he survived with one foot intact and led an active life until his death at the age of 53.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the Horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate:I am the captain of my soul.

While incarcerated on Robben Island prison, Nelson Mandela recited the poem to other prisoners and was empowered by its message of self mastery.

I think it could probably empower just about anyone who studied it and applied it to their lives. Perhaps there would be less depressed people out there if they figured out they were the masters of their own fates, the captains of their souls.

Another poem of his, accepting Death:

Margaritae Sorori

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies:And from the west,Where the sun, his day's work ended,Lingers as in content,There falls on the old, gray cityAn influence luminous and serene,A shining peace.

The smoke ascendsIn a rosy-and-golden haze. The spiresShine and are changed. In the valleyShadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,Closing his benediction,Sinks, and the darkening airThrills with a sense of the triumphing night--Night with her train of starsAnd her great gift of sleep.

So be my passing!My task accomplish'd and the long day done,My wages taken, and in my heartSome late lark singing,Let me be gather'd to the quiet west,The sundown splendid and serene,Death.